


wingless angels and disgusting green jello

by wasatch_97



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Halloween Costumes, Han Jisung | Han is Whipped, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, M/M, halloween fic yay, jisung is a klutz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27308797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasatch_97/pseuds/wasatch_97
Summary: “Who says I’m a devil-in-training? I could be the full-blown devil and take you down for that comment.”“One reason is that I’ve never heard of a devil that has no spatial awareness. Second,” he reaches towards Jisung whose eyes widen, and gently pinches his cheek. “Too cute.”“It’s the cute ones that get you,” Jisung grumbles, batting the boy’s hand away.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 12
Kudos: 216





	wingless angels and disgusting green jello

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween :) i could not for the life of me think up a proper title sorry
> 
>  **cw:** blood, anxiety, mentioned alcohol

“Minnie, I have a perfectly good evening planned. Study a bit, watch a couple of seasonal movies, order food.” 

Seungmin glares over his shoulder at Jisung who is sitting on his roommate’s bed, pouting. “Come on, Sung. It’s Halloween, just live a little tonight. Then you can come home and retreat into your bed and turn all moldy because the things you interact with are limited to me and your laptop.” 

“Don’t call me out,” Jisung grumbles, watching Seungmin tug at his obnoxiously orange shirt with a design around the hem. “You’re not even dressed up.” 

“I don’t like to make a fool of myself by spilling fake blood everywhere to look like my eyes were gouged out by some mystical beast.” Seungmin grabs a jacket from the foot of his bed and slaps Jisung’s thigh as he passes by. “Plus I already have a boyfriend, I don’t need to embrace the culture of all the sad single people at this university.” 

“Hey,” Jisung stands up and trails after Seungmin, “I’m single.” 

“Hence my statement.” Seungmin grabs his wallet off the table and stuffs it into his back pocket. “If you want to come at some point, the party is at Chan’s. Hey, the lighting will be dark, maybe someone will assume you’re attractive.” 

“Yah,” Jisung goes to fling one of the miniature pumpkins from the kitchen bar at Seungmin, but he’s already out the door. Jisung puts the pumpkin down dejectedly. 

Jisung is restless. So restless that halfway through his first movie he slams the remote down and stalks into his room. He can live a little, right? He can go to the party for just a bit. Nothing will happen, maybe he can drink a bit to ease his nerves. All good. 

With those thoughts in mind he pulls on a plain black long-sleeve shirt and deems his black pants acceptable. He gives up on his hair after a minute, the multicolored strands falling this way and that, the result of one beer too many, an alarming amount of hair dye colors, and one intoxicated Lee Felix. 

Seungmin says he looks like a parrot. Jisung tries to forget the comparison every day. 

Jisung looks towards his trusty beanie collection and considers, but his eyes fall on something else, something red that’s peeking out from under the frame of his bed. Crouching, he pulls the the object out and nearly laughs - it’s a headband with devil horns fixed to it.

Why not?

Jisung ends up standing in front of Chan’s house a handful of minutes later, devil horns in hand because on the walk over he’s realized just how embarrassing they could be. 

Chan is a grad student who lives not far off campus and has the perfect place for house parties. It’s never anything too wild but it’s apparently good fun; Jisung hasn’t been to one of his parties, his anxiety skyrockets sometimes when he just thinks about them.

Why he’s here he’s still not totally sure. 

As he walks towards the door, circled with black and purple garlands and an alarming about of skull cutouts, Jisung can feel the bass from the music coming from inside in his bones. “Formidable,” he mutters, and finally crosses the remaining steps to push the already cracked door open. 

He’s hit by a pulse of music that nearly topples him over but he forces himself on, hurriedly looking around for Seungmin amidst the throngs of people dressed as ghosts and vampires and cats. It’s overwhelming him already, the heat and the press of bodies and the noise, and he hasn’t been inside for more than a few minutes.

Jisung groans in defeat when his heartbeat picks up to a point where he feels dizzy and tears prickle in his eyes. It’s embarrassing, being like this. 

He stumbles towards the back door which seems closer than the front; he can’t really tell because the world is starting to warp around him. Jisung bumps against the door and sighs in relief when it swings open without him having to fumble for the nob. 

The chill of the outdoors hits him like bricks but he sighs in relief, scurrying down the stairs where a few couples and displaying too much affection for Jisung’s taste. Chan’s house opens onto a rather large yard, which Jisung immediately finds himself appreciating. He knows he must look like a madman, jogging towards the far corner of the yard, but he can’t help it; he closes his eyes to try to withstand the headache that is growing steadily from just minutes of being trapped in the same room as that stereo. 

He should have considered jogging with his eyes closed to be something at least somewhat risky, because he rams straight into what feels like a very solid tree, and falls backwards against the grass with a muffled grunt. 

Jisung feels completely stupid and completely helpless, so he decides to lay there for a little bit. See if he can sink into the ground.

“Damn, you okay?” A voice calls, much to Jisung’s dismay, and steps grow closer and closer to Jisung as he finally registers the pain radiating from his face and groans, his hands coming up to his nose to find a thick and sticky substance. Blood. “Hey, let me help you sit up.” 

And then there are hands supporting Jisung’s back and he’s propped up against the tree that has maimed him, to weak to put up a fight. Jisung opens his eyes slowly, taking in the boy in front of him for the first time. “Whoa.” Jisung really can’t handle social situations. 

The boy is dressed as an angel, with a little halo over his head and completely white clothes. His hair is a dark brown and isn’t styled, and there are gold contacts obscuring the true color of his eyes. He has a nice face, a really nice face, and Jisung finds himself turning beet red, probably matching the blood on his own face. 

The boy looks a little taken aback and his pretty gold eyes widen slightly. “Whoa?” 

They stare at each other, Jisung’s face not letting go of the heat burning under his skin. He notices that the boy’s ears are tinted pink and he feels his own blush start to creep down his neck. Only when he feels blood dripping down his cheek does he force himself to look away, wiping at the blood with his sleeve for lack of a better cloth. “This is so disgusting and embarrassing, I’m sorry,” Jisung mumbles, snuffling and wincing in discomfort. “Who the hell chooses to have trees in their yard?” 

“I’m assuming that’s rhetorical?” The boy asks, an eyebrow raised. 

Jisung nods and looks at the ground where the guy is kneeling. “I’m hoping no one has the pleasure of being on the same klutz level as me.” 

The boy laughs and Jisung feels his heart jump. _Don’t catch feelings for some random hot boy you met after crashing into an upright log,_ Jisung chastises himself. 

“You okay there?” The boy asks, interrupting his thoughts as he’d probably become aware of his silence. “You don’t have a concussion or something, do you?” 

“No,” Jisung replies. “The bleeding stopped though.” 

“That’s good,” the boy continues. “Look at me for a minute?” 

Jisung flinches when the boy touches his chin but lets him guide his head up so that they are face to face again. The boy leans in a bit and Jisung’s breathing hitches as he watches the boy’s gold eyes assess his injury. 

“You didn’t break your nose,” he says decidedly when he pulls away once more and Jisung pretends he doesn’t feel a little sad as their proximity lessens. “You might have some bruising though, it was a pretty nasty collision.” 

“Great,” Jisung groans, he doesn’t want any more attention drawn to him in classes or wherever. 

The boy chuckles but doesn’t ask any questions, simply pulling further away to put his arms around his knees. Jisung suddenly realizes how soft he looks in his white outfit that he has to resist the urge to coo or pinch his cheeks. He can still feel the anxiety in the pit of his stomach, it hasn’t gone away, but maybe he does have a concussion - he’d have run away from anyone else by now. “I’ve never seen you around before.”

“I’ve never seen you either,” Jisung counters. 

The boy laughs again. “You go to uni here?”

“I could, or I could just be part of a nighttime cult.” 

The boy snorts and shakes his head, his lips curling up into a grin. “Or you could just be a clumsy devil-in-training.” He gestures to the horns that Jisung is still holding in a loose grip. 

Jisung pouts and places the headband on. “Who says I’m a devil-in-training? I could be the full-blown devil and take you down for that comment.” 

“One reason is that I’ve never heard of a devil that has no spatial awareness. Second,” he reaches towards Jisung whose eyes widen, and gently pinches his cheek. “Too cute.”

“It’s the cute ones that get you,” Jisung grumbles, batting the boy’s hand away. “And what about you? You’re being a bit too mean for an angel.” 

“You think?” The boy laughs and fiddles with his own headband. “This costume was forced upon me, but I refused the wings.” 

“Wings are a sacred thing to angels,” Jisung chides, “haven’t you watched _It’s a Wonderful Life?”_

“I can’t say I have.” 

Jisung gasps, truly appalled. “’Every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings?’ It’s a classic!” he rips off his horns and snatches the boy’s halo, promptly switching their accessories. “The devil, the devil I say.” 

Jisung expects the boy to sass him back but instead he’s met with a softened smile, “Where the hell have you been all my life?”

Jisung blushes deeply, has this evolved into flirting? It feels like it, especially since he’s called Jisung cute, but he can’t be completely sure. He weighs his options, he could leave or he could try, after all this guy is charming and pretty. “The question is where shall I be?” 

The boy stares at him and he’s obviously trying to bite back a grin. “You tell me, rainbow boy.” 

“What?” Jisung asks, confused, before bringing a hand to touch his multi-colored hair. “Ah.” 

Suddenly Jisung’s phone buzzes, and when he reads it it’s a message from Seungmin, saying he’d spotted Jisung briefly and is wondering where he is. “A friend?” The boy asks, motioning to his phone. 

Jisung nods, shutting the device off and slipping it back in his pocket. “I should probably go back and clean up before he sees me covered in blood.”

“Probably a good idea,” the boy says, standing up and helping Jisung to his feet too, his fingers burning Jisung’s skin. “You look like you lost a fight with a belt sander.” 

“Wow, I’m touched,” Jisung drawls, bringing a hand to his face. “Have always wanted to show up at a party looking like I had just made out with a piece of hardware. Talk about home improvement.” 

The boy laughs and Jisung watches his eyes turn to half moons. It’s something Jisung can easily get used to seeing and hearing. “So, rainbow boy, will I see you again?” 

“You want to see me again?” Jisung asks, his eyes widening. Something is dancing in his stomach and he’s assuming it’s those butterflies everyone talks about. “I literally just made the worst first impression ever. Blood, terrible wit, and all.”

“Maybe I want to see you without the blood. But keep the wit, I like it.” The boy grins and Jisung’s heart palpitates. “So what do you say?” 

Jisung bites his lip, mulling the boy’s words over in his mind. Would it hurt him to admit he really really wants to spend more time with this boy? Sighing, he pulls out a piece of paper he had accidentally ripped off the shopping list earlier that morning and stuffed in his back pocket to tape on before Seungmin realized. “Do you have a pen?” 

The boy’s eyes widen and Jisung knows he’d expected a number, but he digs through his front pockets and finds a tiny golf pencil. Jisung sniggers but takes it anyways, pressing the scrap of paper against the boy’s shoulder to write, the victim jolting at the touch but eventually freezing when Jisung leans closer to get a better look at his writing. 

“Okay,” Jisung looks at the note, making sure the letters and numbers he had scribbled over ‘pasta,’ and ‘Seungmin’s disgusting green jello’ are correct. “I don’t do this normally,” Jisung tells the boy, “I don’t want to get hurt. So if you are actually interested in getting to know me, you’ll have to work at it.” He slips the paper into the boy’s hand.

“Han Jisung,” the boy reads off the paper and then glances back up. “You’ve given me your email.” 

Jisung nods solemnly. “My phone number is a sacred thing accessible to few.” 

“So I have to earn it?” The boy looks amused. 

“Something like that,” Jisung shrugs. “Now I should really go, I’m sorry…” 

“Minho, Lee Minho,” the boy says. “And yes, go wash up. I’ll...email you.” 

Jisung giggles and is glad when Minho parallels it. “Bye, Lee Minho.” 

“Bye, Han Jisung.”

**Author's Note:**

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